somewhere greener, somewhere warmer
by hannabanana13
Summary: "You're still shivering." He says. "I'm a California girl." She replies.


Her car has never quite betrayed her the way it has done tonight.

Standing in two feet of snow, her gaze shifting back and forth between the deserted stretch of street she has just driven down, and the sight of her silver car parked haphazardly on the side of the road. She's not sure why she put the flashers on, she hasn't seen another car since she got into the SRX at the small town police station, and this Upstate highway hasn't seen any cars on this worn pavement besides her own.

God, she hates snow. It's like sand, it gets _everywhere._ Deeks still hasn't converted her, and she's readily participated in his arguments to disprove that the beach is not the best thing in the word. It's nothing personal, but she doesn't like sand in her underwear. At this moment, she'd be willing to agree that she loves sand, if only the snow would go away. The snow has melted into her short heeled boots, and it's making her hands red.

Kensi stares down dismayed at herself. The short black dress she is wearing was perfect for seducing the muscular mercenary on the mission tonight, but when paired against the fierce New York wind, the sheer fabric has met it's match. Besides, her legs are bare, and her normally smooth tan skin is covered in a thin cover of goose bumps, and she's shivering as she stares dejected at her car.

Her father taught her how to fix anything mechanical, but she can't locate a problem, and she doubts it can be fixed without taking apart the engine. To do that, she needs daylight, warm socks, and a surface without snow; none of which she has.

Quite honestly, this day couldn't be going much worse: they flew to New York this morning, she went undercover as an actress named Rose, got smacked by a pissed pet shop owner. Their liaison from the NYPD kept her late flirting, and the boys left winking, quick to escape before she snagged them into helping with her overdue paperwork. To make matters worse, she doesn't need her car to break down on the anniversary of her father's death.

But Kensi sighs and pulls herself together, grabbing her emergency fleece blanket from the back of her trunk and cursing Deeks for stealing her spare sweatshirt when the suspect pushed him in the Bay two weeks ago.

She isn't even surprised when she realizes her phone battery is dead, and she has a moment of panic before she convinces herself with several deep breaths, that she's _fine_. It's the moment of unpreparedness that sends her into terror these days, she has this irresistible need to be in control that has increased in intensity in the last couple of weeks. Maybe its their new caseload: they haven't had a weekend off since Christmas, and Kensi's afraid it will be Valentine's Day before she gets to catch glimpse of her old social life.

Kensi starts walking before she can feel totally sorry for herself, and she shakes this feeling of self pity off before she can become completely familiar with it. She's made it a personal goal of hers to ignore her own feelings to focus on the job, and she almost feels guilty by her internal complaining.

It's only three and a half miles to the hotel the rest of the team is stationed at, and it only takes Kensi forty minutes to make it to the Holiday Inn front door, which she considers an acceptable pace considering the frozen tundra and her stilettoes. If her toes weren't so frozen, she would have taken her heels off to walk barefoot. She only falls on the ice once, which she considers an accomplishment, and she throws her hands out to stop herself before serious injury occurs.

Kensi's pretty sure she couldn't have surprised the receptionist any more if she had walked in naked. The boy looks about nineteen and he stares at her like she's a Victoria's Secret Model when the doors slide open to welcome her. If she wasn't so tired, she might have smiled for him.

Instead, she walks upstairs, all of her concentration focused on appearing carelessly nonchalant, like the pretty celebrity she is currently pretending to be in the daytime. Room 530 is at the end of the hallway, windows facing the bustling city, mountains decorating the horizon. She glances down the hallway, satisfied at her security, before sliding her room key into the door and entering. Kensi turns around to glance quickly at Callen and Sam's room across the hall, noticing the light on under the door, the shifting, pacing shadows.

She closes the door, locks it behind her, and moves slowly through the darkness until she can determine if Deeks is asleep.

"Where have you been?"

His voice is quiet, but the shadow cast from his muscular form in the pale light from the streetlights, isn't on the bed where she expected. His form is lit in the chair near the window, and she can see his hands are in fists.

"My car broke down." Kensi says, wringing out her curls and watching the drops of water glitter before they fall to the carpet. She flips the switch for the light on her way into the room, and she steps out of her heels and slides past him to sit on the heater by his chair.

"And your phone?" Deeks' voice is not in its normal light tone, he sounds nearly worried, although he doesn't often show his true feelings on the job.

"Dead."

"I was worried about you." He admits. He flexes his fingers as if they hurt. Deeks stands then, and she worries briefly that he'll turn to yell at her, but he only moves to the bed to grab the pale yellow fleece that is folded next to the pillows.

She murmurs her thanks before allowing him to slide it around her freezing shoulders. His fingers brush her bare skin, and they leaves a trail of tingling flesh in their path. But when he freezes in place, she finally raises her head to meet his eyes.

"What?" She asks, when he meets her glance with a frightened expression.

Deeks holds up his hand wordlessly, and she can see the bright shimmer of crimson blood on his fingers. Kensi looks down to the shoulder he touched, and there is a thin slice through her tan skin, a trail of blood continuing its path down her right arm.

"I must have cut it on the ice. It doesn't hurt." Kensi adds before he can ask. "I fine."

"No, you're not. You didn't need this today." His last comment is nearly a whisper, but she still hears him.

He knows. Kensi doesn't know how, but he knows what today is. What it means to her. And she's oh-so-grateful he doesn't say anything as he grabs the first aid kit from one of their duffle bags. But she can feel those bright blue eyes watching her as he cleans her arm, can feel his warm breath as he pours medicine over her tender skin. She has goose bumps, and she's not sure if it is from his presence or the outside cold.

After he places a bright bandage on her bicep, he pulls her gently into a standing position. He rummages around in his suitcase for a moment, before tossing her a t-shirt and a pair of sweats. She hopes he can see the gratitude on her face, because her teeth are chattering to much to talk.

After she takes a quick shower, she pulls on his clothes, breathing in the smell of him. When she re-enters the bedroom, she doesn't pause, doesn't stop to think, she just slides in bed right next to him.

Earlier in the day, they had fought over who would get stuck on the hotel room's small couch, and who would get the luxurious king bed. Deeks had won the game of rock-paper-scissors, and although she threatened to castrate him, he had proceeded to rub it in her face. She had smarmily informed him that she would make other arrangements for the night, and he had laughed.

But now, in the darkness of the room, she lifts the covers and crawls into bed beside him. Deeks, surprisingly, does not comment on the more pleasing sleeping arrangements. He merely slides an arm around her shoulders and pulls the blankets up to her chin. She buries her head in his chest and tries not to think of her father.

Maybe this is the first anniversary that she hasn't broken down in tears all day. But this is the first anniversary where she hasn't seen the memorial, hasn't brought flowers to a gravesite.

"You're still shivering." He murmurs into the darkness, voice heavy now, near sleep. He rubs his hands up and down her arms, and she shivers harder. He slides both arms around her, until she is buried in his wide chest, hands clenched in the fabric of his t-shirt. Now, she will be able to cry because he won't see it, because he will only _feel_ the warmth of the tears melting through his shirt.

"I'm a California girl." Kensi replies.

Deeks chuckles softly, the muscles in his chest tense. Then he asks: "How many years?"

She releases a shaky breath. "Ten."

"I'm sorry." He presses a kiss to the top of her head. Lets it linger there.

"Me too." Kensi says, and she might love him, if she tried.

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